Morning After
by mangochi
Summary: Ten-part epilogue/side story snippets set after Nelaya. Includes fluff (and not so fluff) and deleted scenes from the main story. Rated M for Chapter 8, everything else is T.
1. Chapter 1

**Obligatory scenes set after Nelaya. A series of mini epilogue snippets and side stories and pretty much random scenes I wrote when taking breaks from writing Nelaya. There are ten chapters to this and I will post a chapter daily. T-rated until further notice. Let me know which ones are your favorites :)**

The Morning After

**Summary: Spock feels insecure after their first night together. Jim flips out.**

Spock was prone to acting strangely at times.

All Jim could think at the time was, _Not again._ He remembered all too well what had happened the last time he'd caught Spock being moody. Granted, they were together now because of it, but that didn't mean he'd _enjoyed_ it. In fact, it had been downright awful most of the time.

He noticed it while taking a shower, which he'd had Scotty modify as soon as he realized there was no water option. Jim preferred hot water over sonics any day after strenuous...activities. It relaxed his muscles and beat away bone-deep soreness and, to be honest, it was so much sexier. He was standing there, eyes closed, jets pelting his body from every direction and running down his legs, when he heard Spock enter.

He opened his eyes immediately, squinting through the clouds of steam at the figure standing in the doorway. "Miss me already?" he asked cheerfully, pressing his hands up against the glass walls and wiping away the condensation that had gathered there.

Spock stepped forward into view, his expression unreadable. He had pulled on his boxer briefs and nothing else, and the sight was almost enough to get Jim ready for a second shower. He cleared his throat self-consciously and grinned . "Or have you come to join me?"

Needless to say, he was surprised when Spock seemingly ignored his invitation, and rested his forehead against the glass with a thunk instead, eyes closed.

Concerned, Jim shut off the water and opened the door, reaching out and grasping Spock's arm. "Hey. What's wrong?"

Spock's eyes opened, and he looked at Jim. He reached out slowly with his other hand, placing his palm just below Jim's shoulder and dragging it slowly, too slowly, across his bare chest. Jim shivered at the touch, his breath hitching as Spock's trailing fingertips grazed across a nipple. He pulled on Spock's arm, angling for a kiss...and Spock stepped away.

Jim blinked, confused. Spock was looking away, his eyes fixed determinedly on the tiles by his feet. This situation was unfortunately familiar.

Jim snapped. He was having no more of this shit. Not this early. And definitely not after what he'd gone through just to wake up in the morning next to Spock. Hell, he'd practically died again! _So no, not today, Mr. Spock._

He hauled on Spock's arm hard, startling the Vulcan enough for him to stumble towards Jim. Jim was turning already, hand coming up to grasp Spock's other wrist and slamming him against the wet shower wall. The glass made a squeaky complaint, but-thank God-didn't break.

Jim glared at Spock, holding his arms in place against the wall. "What," he enunciated clearly, "The hell. Spock. Look at me."

Spock dragged his eyes to Jim's face, and the emotion Jim saw there made him want to cry. Spock was _scared_. "Jim," he whispered, and his lower lip _trembled._

"Damn it," Jim growled. He leaned forward and kissed Spock hard, scraping his teeth along Spock's tongue and swirling his own roughly around Spock's mouth. Tasting him. Marking him. "Tell me," he murmured, when he finally pulled back for air.

Spock, his breathing slightly more erratic than before, reached up tentatively and grasped the sides of Jim's face with both hands. _When did he...?_ "Are you..."

"Am I what?" Jim turned his face to one side, nuzzling into Spock's palm. He felt his morning stubble scrape across the sensitive skin in the inside of Spock's wrist and felt a stab of satisfaction when he heard a hiccup of air.

"Are you certain that this is what you want?" Spock said it quickly, like ripping off a bandage, visibly cringing before the words even registered in Jim's mind.

Jim choked on indignation. He spluttered incoherently for a few seconds, glaring at Spock in utter disbelief. "_What?_" he demanded, as soon as he had his wind back. "Are you serio-Is this-_God_, Spock!"

Spock kept looking at him, his eyes still holding a trace of anxiety. He really was worried, Jim saw with an internal groan. Worried that Jim was going to change his mind.

Jim sighed. There was no way to say what he needed to without sounding like a total sap, but, damn, Spock could be such a total _idiot_ when it came to stuff like this. They both were, really, he realized ruefully. "Listen, Spock," he said fiercely, determined to get the last word in this. "You're it for me. D'you get that? You're mine until I die."

He paused to let that sink in a little, then raged on, "You're a sociopathic, irrationally logical, noble pain in the ass, but you're _mine_ now and I'm yours. That means you don't get to say stupid stuff like this anymore. Seriously, did you think I'd let you d-do...me," he spluttered a bit at that, feeling a hot flush coloring the back of his neck, but soldiered on doggedly, "_do_ me like you did last night if I wasn't completely damn sure I wanted you? And hell, those pasty healers said as much themselves, didn't they? I love you. I...I need you, Spock, and I'll say it a billion times if I have to. I'll say it for the rest of my life, if that's what it takes."

Spock was staring at him, looking,...awestruck. Probably at how stupid Jim sounded. He really was no good at this. "Jim-"

"So I _am_ sure, you idiot. How do you think this makes me feel, anyway, you doubting me like this? You're an ass." Jim pressed his face into Spock's shoulder, hoping to hide how red he was turning. "Damn it," he muttered, mortified.

Spock's hands slid up and down his damp back soothingly, wiping away the cooling droplets. Jim found himself getting hard, and it only added to his embarrassment. "I apologize," Spock murmured into Jim's ear, pulling him even closer. "I was inconsiderate."

Jim snorted. "Damn right you were." He kissed Spock's shoulder tentatively. "Can I kiss you now?"

A flush of pale green swept up Spock's neck, there and gone so quickly that Jim wasn't sure if he had imagined it. "If you would like," he said indifferently, but his hands tightened decisively on Jim's waist.

Jim pretended to consider it, then grinned wickedly. "Are you sure?"

Exasperation flared in those dark brown eyes. "_Captain._"

"I don't know, this could go all sorts of bad. We might even be late, Commander. What kind of example will that set for the crew?"

"Jim," Spock growled.

"Hmm?" Jim rocked forward innocently, grinding against Spock's thigh.

"Kiss me."

"Yes, sir," Jim breathed, and leaned in.

Spock met him halfway...or tried. Jim deliberately twisted away at the last moment, pecking the corner of Spock's lips before pulling away teasingly and hopping out of the shower.

Spock was now taking deep, calming breaths. "Captain, return at once," he said, a hint of the commanding officer creeping into his tone.

"That's kind of a turn-on," Jim realized with delight, scooping up a towel and shimmying it around his body in a quick drying motion. The action drew Spock's attention to his hips, and he took another deep breath. "Seriously, though, we'll be late," he added regretfully. "Normally, I wouldn't give a shit, but I don't think the crew's quite ready for..." he gestured vaguely at Spock, "...for _us_ yet."

Spock exhaled through his nose and gingerly climbed out of the shower. "You are infuriating," he told Jim, coming around to help Jim dry his hair.

"Mmm. Yeah, I tend to be." Jim allowed himself to lean back against Spock's chest for a moment. "Are _you_ sure? About this?" he asked suddenly, serious now. "Because, I mean-"

He felt Spock kiss the top of his head, the movement so affectionate and human that Jim was caught completely off guard. "I am yours," Spock said. "And you are mine. Believe that, if nothing else."

On second thought, it wouldn't do to get to the bridge _too_ early. Might be strange. Suspicious, even.

Jim spun and wrapped his arms around Spock's waist, mouth quirking in a crooked smile. "Good," Jim said. "Because I'm afraid you're stuck with me for good."

The kiss was even better than he had dared to hope.


	2. Chapter 2

Keepers

**Summary: Because Jim and Spock probably wouldn't be together without them.**

Len wasn't shocked to see Uhura in his office as soon as Spock returned with Jim. He was, however, pleasantly surprised at the two bottles of Saurian whiskey she brought with her.

"Us keepers have to stick together," she smiled, though it was only half a joke.

"Keepers," he grumbled sardonically, catching the bottle she lobbed at him and rummaging in his desk drawer for a bottle opener. "I never signed up to be their nanny, you know."

"And yet," she pointed out, sitting on the edge of his desk. So she could look down at him, Len suspected. "Here we are."

"You're a terrifying woman, Lieutenant," he mumbled, tilting his head back for a swig. It burned down his throat with a satisfying pain. He needed it to hurt right now.

"I'm quite normal, I assure you." But she looked amused. "Just doing what any friend would do."

"Friend, huh." Len stared into the depths of his bottle, swirling its contents absently. "That's you and Spock, right?"

"Friends," Uhura said firmly, but she looked slightly melancholy as she also inspected the inside of her drink. "Maybe we could have been more, but there was always someone else he was looking for."

"You think that's Jim?" He wasn't sure himself. He only knew that they were idiots about each other, but whether that meant they wanted each other, he had no idea.

Uhura was quiet for a few moments, then took a fierce gulp and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. "I hope it is," she said finally. "They're good for each other."

"Well, they're stupidly obsessed with saving each other, for one," Len muttered grouchily.

"But that's why you're here, right? To patch them up when they come back."

Len grunted. "And you?"

"To bash their heads together when they can't see sense." She quirked a smile and offered her bottle. "To keepers?"

"To the damn keepers," Len said, and clinked their bottles. The next swig didn't burn quite as much, but he found that he no longer minded.

"Hey, Uhura," he said, after swallowing.

"Nyota," she supplied, smiling enigmatically over her drink.

"Gesundheit."

She swatted his arm reproachfully. "It's my name, you dolt. Be grateful, not everyone has the privilege."

Oh. _Oh. _Len stared very hard at the bottle he cradled in his hands, a sense of prickling nervousness poking at his spleen. Unless that was the whiskey. He was...out of practice with this sort of thing, to say the least. His last relationship hadn't ended well by any means, and, well, keeping up with Jim had kept him too busy to even consider the idea.  
But Uhura..._Nyota_ was beautiful, smart, had a tongue on her as sharp as her wit...he'd be a liar if he said he wasn't at least _somewhat _intrigued.

But, damn it, he was getting too old for this and Nyota didn't deserve to be stuck with a grumpy, alcoholic medic like him. He didn't deserve her. Spock definitely didn't deserve her, the git.

He gulped down another surly mouthful. "Would you." He paused, struggling with his words. He had never been good at words, not like Jim or even Spock, the robotic wonder. "Would you like...to have dinner. Sometime. With me."

Nyota was looking at him, with that feline smile that made him feel hunted and intrigued at the same time, and he swallowed around the bubbles fizzing back up his throat nervously. "Dinner?"

"We could complain about the two idiots the whole time. It'll be great."

"I was hoping we could talk about someone else, for a change." She swung her legs absently off the side of the desk, and Len found his gaze wandering down to-

No, damn it. He snapped his eyes back to her face.

"You know, I've been over Spock for a while now, Doctor McCoy. Or is it Bones?"

"Nah, that's Jim's thing," he said automatically, then winced at her suddenly disappointed expression.

"Oh."

"Call me Len." It was a stupid thing to say, an embarrassing thing to say, but then she smiled and raised her bottle in a salute and he knew then that he was in way over his head.

But, what the hell. He deserved it.


	3. Chapter 3

Losing Count

**Summary: Spock keeps count of all the times Jim says, "I love you."**

Jim liked to tell Spock that he loved him. Spock suspected this was due to his initial insecurity at the beginning of their relationship. He had been unwanted his entire childhood, after all, and was unaccustomed to the fierce intimacy that came with human relations. In fact, Jim had said those three words no less than eighty-seven times since their first night together three days ago.

Sometimes it was in passing, Jim murmuring it beneath his breath as he walked past. Other times, in private, it was muttered into the nape of his neck, whispered in his ear, gasped in the throes of passion. On one memorable occasion, the seventy-fourth time, Jim had even traced it into his thigh beneath the conference table during a meeting.

But Spock never asked him to stop, partly because he knew Jim would continue regardless, and partly because he never tired of hearing the words.

He still could not find it in himself to reciprocate quite as vocally, but he attempted to show Jim as often as he could in the only ways he knew how. A brush of the backs of their hands in the corridor, a lingering stare in meetings. And in the privacy of their quarters, hidden from the world, he always kissed Jim in the human way he knew Jim liked until they were both breathless. Then they would move to the bed.

It was much of the same on the fifth day. They stood in Jim's quarters, Jim's arms tight around Spock's waist and his lips forming a confession, a branding mark against Spock's neck.

"Love you," he was mumbling now, his fingers hooking into the fabric of Spock's shirt. "So much, Spock..."

"Eighty-eight," Spock murmured unthinkingly, bending and catching the eighty-ninth whisper with his mouth.

"Eighty-eight what?" Jim panted, when they finally parted.

"Eighty-nine," Spock automatically corrected, then frowned in slight discomfort. "That is the number of times you have professed your affection for me."

Jim's mouth fell open slightly as he stared at Spock. "You _counted_?"

"I do not do it intentionally," Spock was quick to answer, unsure as to why he was suddenly feeling defensive of his actions. "It is an automatic reflex formed from habit."

"But still. You kept count-"

"_Unintentionally_-"

"Only eighty-nine?" Jim mused. "Gotta work harder, then."

"Harder?"

"Mr. Spock, I intend to say it so often that you lose count." Jim's hands slipped under Spock's shirt, and he briefly lost focus.

"I assure you," he said, when he found his voice again, "that it will not happen."

Jim's eyes held a wicked glint. "Challenge accepted."

"Why must you see everything as a challenge?" Spock deplored, struggling to control his breathing as Jim raked his nails down his back. The phantom lines he left behind flared with tingling sensation.

"You're right. This wont' be hard at all." Jim hauled Spock's hips forward roughly, his mouth moving simultaneously to meet Spock's.

Spock grunted with displeasure at the way he was being manhandled, hands coming up in the tight space between their chests and shoving Jim back against the wall. He pressed forward, caging Jim within his arms, and rolled his hips with slight clumsiness. He was still somewhat unaccustomed to the movements Jim seemed to pull off with complete ease, but judging by Jim's muffled curse against his shoulder, his skills were improving swiftly.

"Not fair," Jim gasped, clutching at Spock's upper arms for support. "You're cheating."

"I was unaware that there were rules," he responded, half aware that he had abandoned his filter of rationale.

Jim chuckled, a deep rich sound that went straight to Spock's groin. "This is why I love you."

"Ninety," Spock said, and kissed him.

Some time later, Jim rested his head on Spock's stomach and stared up at the ceiling dizzily. "How many times?" he inquired, his voice slightly strained from exertion.

Spock considered carefully, fiddling with Jim's hair, then reluctantly came to his conclusion. "Somewhere in the regions of ninety and one hundred and ten."

Jim rolled over immediately to look at him with delight, chin propped on Spock's chest. "You lost count?"

"I am sixty-four percent certain that the count is at one hundred and two-"

"Admit it." Jim laughed. "You lost count."

"Very well," Spock grumbled. "You proved to be very distracting."

"Don't worry." Jim kissed him lazily, the pressure of his lips and tongue enough to start a slow warmth in his belly that glowed and comforted without bursting into flame. "That just means you can start over."

And so, Spock realized, it did.


	4. Chapter 4

Stay

**Summary: Spock doesn't usually stick around to cuddle afterwards, but this time Jim's determined to make him stay.**

Spock made to roll away, but Jim's arm caught him around his waist and pulled him back.

"Where do you think you're going?" Jim demanded fuzzily, his head still swimming somewhere by the ceiling.

Spock gently disentangled himself, then sighed through his nose when both arms returned and wrapped around him instantly. "Jim, I do not understand," he responded, sitting up. Jim hung on like a baby possum, his head resting against Spock's waist stubbornly.

"What don't you understand?" Jim tightened his grip. After the first night, Spock had never once stayed in bed afterwards. Sometimes he would shower, then work at the console late into the night. Sometimes he would skip the shower and simply take up his PADD, the soft tapping of his stylus lulling Jim to sleep. Other times he would leave to take care of business or meditate in the corner.

But not once had he ever stayed in bed the whole night.

It didn't exactly _bother_ Jim, not in an unpleasant way, but it made him feel self-conscious somehow. He knew a bit about the whole Vulcan touch thing; he _was_ committed to one now, after all. But he figured that there was something else that Spock wasn't telling him, and damn it, he was going to find out now.

"I do not understand your fixation on this aspect of my behavior," Spock explained.

"Because it's weird, that's why. Why don't you ever stay in bed in me?" Jim wasn't pouting, he _wasn't_, but he knew well what kind of results he could get by making the face he was making now.

Spock immediately diverted his gaze and Jim felt his expression mutate into a glower. _Damn intellectual Vulcan_.

"It is not customary in Vulcan culture to remain in bed when not fatigued," Spock answered carefully. Jim didn't fall for it. He could be smart about these things too, when he wanted to be.

"What, so it's because you're not tired?" That wasn't exactly what Jim had been expecting, and he took it almost personally. "What kind of stamina do you _have_, man?!" He was personally running low on fuel, but knowing that Spock wasn't even...after what they had just….that was almost _insulting_, that was.

Spock glanced at him warily, as if sensing his sudden change in mood. "Jim, you must know that our physical aptitudes are distinctly...defined."

"Am I too fast or something?" Jim demanded loudly.

Spock visibly winced. "That is not what I meant to imply."

Suddenly Jim wasn't feeling so tired anymore. "You know what, let's go again. 'Not fatigued,' my ass." Perhaps that wasn't the best wording, but he was too peeved to give it much thought.

Spock considered him for a long moment, perhaps regretting getting into the topic at all. Or maybe he was seriously considering a second round. Jim wasn't sure which he preferred at this point.

"Do you truly wish to know?"

"Of course I do!"

Spock looked almost embarrassed, and damn it if Jim wasn't dead curious now. "It is not a slight against you, Jim, you must know that. If anything, it is a compliment to your...assets."

"You sure it's not just my ass?" Jim said, half jokingly.

Then Spock turned green.

Jim stared. "_No._"

"That is not-"

"Oh my God, I get it now."

"No, Jim-"

"You're afraid to stay in bed because I'm too tempting or something?!"

"I am not _afraid_," Spock said, almost petulantly. "I am merely concerned for your well being."

Jim pulled him down and kissed him. A hot, messy kiss that was more noise and fanfare than anything. Spock looked properly disgruntled and unsatisfied by the time Jim released him, smirking as he settled back onto the bed. "How's that for tempting?"

Spock made a noncommittal grunt and lowered himself onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow and leaning down over Jim again.

"I could kiss you," Jim declared breathlessly, when Spock pulled back to let him breathe, "for the rest of my life."

"That would be most illogical." Spock decided he had given Jim enough air and leaned back in to recapture his lips. "However, I do not find myself completely opposed to it," he admitted, when they next broke apart.

Jim grinned. "Am I a bad influence on you, Mr. Spock ?"

"A most terrible influence, Captain," Spock agreed gravely, the corner of his mouth twitching suspiciously. Jim kissed it impulsively and was sure this time that it tilted upwards beneath his mouth.

"I'll have to change your mind about that," he murmured.

"I have been told that I can be very stubborn."

"I'm very persuasive," Jim assured him wickedly. "But don't worry, I'll behave myself." His hand rested on Spock's hip possessively. _So stay._

"Is that an order?" Spock breathed against his mouth.

"It's whatever you want it to be." Jim shifted until he was on his side, the sheets rustling as he nudged his thigh between Spock's legs. He took Spock's growl as he rolled on top of Jim as resounding consent.


	5. Chapter 5

I Won't Fall Asleep

**Summary: Jim still has nightmares, but this time Spock is there to help him through.**

Jim was dreaming again. Spock was awoken by a sharp elbow to his ribs, his eyes flying open instantly as he snapped from his light doze. A faint whimper reached his ears, and he rolled up onto an elbow, considering Jim with concern.

The man was curled into himself, his legs giving the occasional twitch, his face contorted in pain. As Spock watched, he gave another groan and tensed, his fingers clawing into the sheets. "Jim," Spock whispered, fearing that Jim would hurt himself if startled. He rested a tentative hand on Jim's arm, frowning when he felt how tight the trembling muscle was beneath his palm.

Jim's breathing was becoming erratic as he gulped for air, his body rolling up into a tighter ball. Spock worriedly ran a hand down Jim's back in an attempt to soothe the man. He was reluctant to attempt a meld in Jim's distressed state, and awakening Jim might prove more harmful than beneficial.

Another weak cry nearly had him reaching for Jim's face despite his previous reservations, but he limited himself to wrapping his arm around Jim's waist, curling his body around him protectively. He breathed in deeply, hoping to transfer some sense of calmness, and felt the thudding of Jim's heart through where they lay pressed chest to back.

After a while, Jim seemed to relax slightly, and Spock shifted his hand experimentally, skimming across Jim's stomach lightly.

In one fluid movement propelled by sheer adrenaline, Jim seized his wrist and twisted away, ending up straddling Spock's hips and leaning over him, pinning Spock effectively to the bed. Spock grunted as Jim's weight dropped down on his waist, a huff of air squeezed out from his torso.

Jim's blue eyes were wide open now, a drop of sweat trickling down the side of his face. There was a wildness still in his blue eyes, some part of his mind still caught in the dream.

"Jim," Spock said softly, and then he was back, staring down dazedly at Spock.

"Spock," Jim rasped. He released Spock's wrist and sat back limply, his hands shaking as they curled on his thighs. "Shit."

Spock reached up cautiously and touched Jim's arm, relieved when he was not thrown off. "Jim, it's all right."

"No, _no, _it's not. Shit, Spock." Jim dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, wiping away the residuals of the nightmare. "I'm so sorry."

Spock sat up, careful to not dislodge Jim. He was not yet accustomed to initiating an embrace, but he now unhesitatingly wrapped his arms around Jim, holding the tremors in. Jim was stiff beneath him initially, then slowly unfolded from himself, his hands coming up to grasp at Spock's back. "What did you dream?" Spock murmured, kissing the side of Jim's neck lightly.

"Something bad." Jim's voice was smothered against his shirt, but Spock could pick out the despair easily. "Something dark and cold and, shit, Spock, you weren't there." His fingers dug into Spock's back, hard enough to leave nail marks behind.

Spock squeezed him tighter, willing the racing human heart to slow and relax. "I am here, Jim."

A moment of silence passed, then Spock heard the muffled sob, more of a burst of air and sound than a cry. He closed his eyes, willed himself to remain calm. He was of no use to Jim crippled by emotion, no matter how much Jim's fear made him feel.

Jim shuddered, trying to restrain another sob. Spock burrowed his face into Jim's neck, keeping Jim's head in place against him with a gentle hand on the back of his head. "Damn it, Spock," Jim whispered, his voice broken and shaking. "You're going to make me depend on you if you keep this up."

"That was the plan," Spock told him mildly.

"You'll get tired of it, you'll hate me for screaming at night. I can't make it stop, I_ can't_, and then you'll want to leave-"

Spock pulled back and crushed his mouth against Jim's, silencing his babbling firmly. Jim's mouth opened desperately beneath his, craving for everything that Spock was willing to give. Spock gave him everything and more, sucking on the tip of his tongue the way Jim liked it, scraping his teeth across his lower lip until Jim was groaning and panting into Spock's mouth. He tasted of salty tears and Spock kissed him until Jim tasted only of him.

"Then dream of me," he whispered, no longer caring how irrational his words were. Jim gave a watery laugh, and then he was crying hard against Spock's shoulder, his shoulders heaving as he hiccuped for breath. "Damn it," he kept saying, until his voice was too choked to do more than gasp for air. "Damn it damn it damn it."

And Spock let him cry, soaking his shirt and the sheets with tears and memories of dark dreams, holding him until his sobs subsided and Jim was half-asleep with exhaustion, the occasional spasm still trembling through his body.

When the tremors had stilled, Spock carefully lay them both down so that they still faced each other. He could feel Jim's erratic breaths feathering across his face, feel his warmth through the small space between them.

"I love you," Spock said quietly, one of the rare times that he found himself able to say the words.

Jim's hand found his and squeezed. "Talk to me?" he murmured sleepily.

Spock began to talk, his voice lowered until it was barely a sigh. He told Jim about his childhood, of how his father had taught him to play chess, of the times he had allowed himself to be compromised by his peers, of how much he loved Jim.

He told him all the reasons that he could never leave Jim alone and how he would do this every night if it would help the nightmares, and even after Jim's breathing slowed and his eyes closed in sleep, he kept talking until the morning came.


	6. Chapter 6

Something I Need

**Summary: Deleted scene from Chapter Eleven of Nelaya. Set during the night they spent in the cave. Kudos to those who know the OneRepublic song.**

Spock tucked an arm over Jim's waist impulsively, relieved when Jim did not complain of the intimacy. He most likely simply did not have the strength to make a fuss, but Spock was pathetically grateful nevertheless.

He was remarkably close to Jim now, breathing in his scent and surrounded by the incredible heat of his body. Even before the fever, Jim had blazed so brightly in Spock's eyes. He pressed his face into Jim's neck, wishing irrationally that he was completely human. If he was not half Vulcan, he may have contracted the disease as well.

Then Jim would not have to go alone.

"Are you awake?" He heard Jim ask quietly.

"Yes."

"You thinking about something?"

Spock decided to speak honestly. "If I could choose my time to die, it would be with you, Jim."

Jim was silent for a few seconds, digesting the confession. "That's stupid," he said at last. Spock tried to rein in his disappointment.

Then Jim continued, "I was always going to go before you, you know. Lifespans and all that." He cleared his throat roughly. "Just didn't think it'd be so soon, you know."

Spock started as he felt Jim's hand move tentatively over his own on his stomach, keeping Spock's hand against his body. "I'm glad that you aren't dying."

"I-"

"No, listen. You have to watch out for everyone, Bones and Uhura and everyone I'm leaving behind. Chekov, he'll be crying over it for weeks, I just know it. You make sure he's okay, you hear? He's just a kid, got his whole life ahead of him." Jim paused, then gave a strangled chuckle. "I did too, come to think of it, before all this shit happened. I was gonna be someone great."

His voice broke slightly on his last words, and it was all Spock could do to not hold him tighter and tell him just how fiercely he would fight to keep Jim alive.

"You will be cured," he told Jim firmly. "You will do those great things, Jim."

"_How_?" Jim's hand tightened over his in frustration. "We've got no navigation, no way to know where we are or how the hell we're supposed to get to...wherever we're even going! I'm gonna die, Spock, you might as well accept it-"

"No," Spock said harshly. "You will not." _I will not let you._

Jim subsided. Something like a sob clawed out of his throat. "I don't want to die, Spock," he admitted in a small voice. "I can't...I'm too young, it's not fair I have to die twice, damn it, I haven't _done_ anything yet."

_You made me love you, _Spock thought. _You taught a broken son of Vulcan how to feel, how to embrace another with his heart._

"I don't...Jesus, Spock, I want to live." And he began to cry in earnest, out of fear, out of the injustice of it. Spock was silent, holding Jim close, because that was what Jim needed from him at the moment. A body to hold him, to touch him, to be there when he woke up.

"You have to live," Jim gasped, when his choked sobs had settled down. "For me, Spock. Don't you dare die in some stupid way, or I swear I'll kick your dead ass across the cosmos."

"Yes, Captain," Spock murmured. "Sleep now."

"Promise me, Spock. You can't forget me, not even when you're one hundred and whatever. God, I'm so sorry I was such an ass to you."

"Jim." Spock turn his hand, squeezing Jim's fingers. "You are not going to die."

"But if-"

"I promise you this, Jim," Spock said. "You will live to see Ensign Chekov turn eighteen. You will do great things. And I will never forget you, no matter how long I live."

A watery chuckle. "Good."

"Sleep, Jim."

"Yes, sir."


	7. Chapter 7

That One Time

**That one time Len went drinking with Jim at Academy. A reference to Chapter Six of Nelaya. "You know how I get once I'm drunk." He did know. He had kicked Jim full in the face the first time they had gone drinking together on the Academy and the kid had tried to lay one on him. **

**Buddy shenanigans.**

Jim was, Len suspected, completely and totally wasted. He sipped moderately from his own still half full glass, keeping a watchful eye on his younger friend from across the bar. They had come together with a group of acquaintances, most of them not close enough to be friends but more than just faces in a crowd. Finals week had just ended, after all, and there was a celebratory mood buzzing in the air.

Naturally, Jim had swiftly collected an armful of local girls, all perched around him almost predatorily now at the bar. Len winced as Jim clumsily drained another shot, laughing and spluttering as the drink went all over his face instead. One of the girls shrieked with amusement, eagerly shoving another full tray of glass tubes forward.

Even from the relatively safe corner Len had crammed himself in, he could see the loopy grin on Jim's face and the bleary way he was leering at the redhead on his lap that practically screamed of trouble. It was time for an intervention, he decided, putting his glass down firmly and excusing himself from the knot of people at his table.

As he picked his way across the crowded room towards Jim, the younger man made a fumbling grab for a handful of ass, smirking as he received a squeal and a halfhearted slap. Len felt a vein throbbing in his temple. Really, this was getting embarrassing to watch.

He reached out and seized Jim's shoulder, giving him a hard shake. "Jim, we need to go."

"Aww," the girl who had laughed at Jim pouted drunkenly. "Party's just started."

"Party's over," Len said shortly, giving Jim another shake. "Come on, let's go, kid."

"Not m'mom, Bones," Jim slurred, trying to pull away feebly. "C'mon, sit down...have a drink." Len impatiently seized the glass before Jim could take it, tossing back the contents and all but slamming the empty glass back on the counter. The alcohol burned in his stomach, giving him the extra push to haul to Jim to his feet by his arm.

"We're leaving," he said firmly, ignoring the shrill complaints of the redhead he had upset from Jim's lap.

Jim craned his head back to give him an annoyed glare, his bloodshot eyes squinting blurrily. "What the hell, Bones. I'm good. Better than good. Super duper good."

"You're drunk."

"Heh, I know. I knowwww." Jim swayed and would have fallen flat on his dopey face if Len hadn't hastily thrown an arm around him, hauling Jim's arm across his own shoulders.

"Come on, you big lug," he grunted, towing his way through the crowd. Jim burped cheerfully in his ear and Lin resisted the urge to dump him on the floor. He liked the kid, he really did, but there were times when he was truly an idiot.

They finally made it to the door, Len shouldering it open and gasping in relief at the rush of cool night air. It was December, the first feeble snowflakes fluttering despondently with the sharp wind. Jim was leaning more and more on him with every step, fading into drunken unconsciousness with every faint giggle and snort.

Len hailed a cab and, feeling more and more grouchy with every passing second, heaved himself in after Jim. He had severe doubts about Jim's ability to get to his apartment on his own in this state. He could hear the call tomorrow morning already.

"_Booonnes."_

"_Damn it, Jim, not again."_

"_I'm sorry, man. Come on, I'm dying here."_

"_You'll be fine. Sleep it off."_

"_Boooooooneeeeeeeesss."_

"_I'm hanging up."_

"_Come on-"_

"_No."_

"_Please?"_

"_..."_

"_Please, Bones. Just this once."_

"_For God's sake, where are you right now, anyway?"_

Then he would grab his hangover kit and haul ass to whichever bed Jim had woken up in that particular morning,

Well, not tonight, damn it. Tonight he was going to see Jim in his own bed by midnight, or so help him, he'd force a liver transplant on the man.

Jim's head lolled onto his shoulder with a heavy thump. Len suppressed a long suffering sigh. He was getting dangerously used to this kind of behavior. He shouldn't tolerate it, really. But damn it if Jim's baby blues didn't get him every time. The kid was practically family now, like a particularly obnoxious little brother.

The cab stopped at Jim's apartment and Len wrestled Jim out, cursing as the man flopped limply and whined and generally made the process a hellish experience. At least he hadn't thrown up in the cab.

It was with a great deal of swearing, threats, and strenuous activity that Len finally dragged Jim to his door. It was another five minutes of exasperated negotiating before Jim reluctantly dug out his keys. He promptly dropped them on the floor and hit his head on the door trying to pick them up.

Len turned his eyes skyward in despair before unlocking Jim's door and manhandling him through. It was dark in the apartment and Len promptly ran into something, a startled yelp escaping as he lost his balance and toppled over. Jim fell on top of him, crushing him down with his stupid, drooling dead weight.

"That's it," Len snarled, twisting around with effort and glaring down at Jim, tangled up in Len's legs and awkwardly sprawling over his body. "I've had it with you," Len grunted, shoving at Jim vehemently. "You ungrateful, _moronic_, fat son of a-"

Then Jim's hand shot up and caught Len's wrist. Len pulled back out of reflex, then blinked when he found Jim's face suddenly much too close to his, staring straight at him.

"Whoa there, Jimmy," he laughed nervously, not liking the sudden glint in Jim's eyes.

Jim moved closer, and with a horrible sinking feeling, Len realized what he was trying to do. He strained backwards, eyes fixed hawkishly on Jim's lips.

"Don't you dare," he warned.

Jim dutifully ignored him, moving closer and closer until-

Len snapped. He'd had what seemed like the longest night in his life, full of drinks and cold winter streets and irritable cab drivers and it was _all Jim's fault_. This was the last straw.

"Hell no!" he all but bellowed, raising his foot and planting it in Jim's face with a satisfying crunch.

Jim lurched back with a cry, blinking rapidly in confusion. His nose was bleeding. "Bones?" he asked, sounding as muddled as could be expected under the circumstances.

Len glared. "You listen here, Jim Kirk. I'm never drinking with you again, you hear? Do you have _any_ idea how much I've gone through-oh my God, don't-"

Jim turned and threw up all over the floor.

They never did go out drinking together again after that.

**Next chapter is M-rated, so feel free to give it a pass if not your cup of tea. This will be the only M-rated chapter.**


	8. Chapter 8

Stir Me Up

**Spock is fascinated by Jim's response to a particular "spot". VERY M-rated and also NSFW, guys, before you plunge into this. HA, didn't think it was going to be ALL fluff and shmluff, did you? Set one month after Nelaya, for propriety's sake.**

"Ahh!"

Jim was shocked at the sound of his own voice, pitched higher than he was used to hearing from himself. He covered his mouth automatically, staring down at Spock with wide eyes. Spock seemed as surprised as he was, lifting his face to blink at Jim.

Then, comprehension dawning slowly on his face, he bent his head and kissed the spot again, just inside Jim's thigh in the curve between his leg and hip. Jim screwed his eyes shut, another shuddering moan threatening to spill out at the white flare of pleasure that radiated from the inch of flesh.

"Fascinating," he thought he heard Spock mutter, his breath and lips ghosting over _the damn spot_ again and sending Jim into another sky high loop.

"Stop that," Jim panted when his mind floated back down, his toes curling into the sheets. He patted clumsily at Spock's head, trying to tug him back up into a less dangerous position. "Seriously."

Spock gave him a calculating glance, eyebrow flicking upward in amusement, then deliberately pressed his mouth against Jim's skin, scraping his teeth ever so lightly and-

"Shit, _stop_, don't you dare stop," Jim babbled, his chest arching off the bed in shock. He didn't even know he _had _a spot like that, and naturally Spock would be the first to find it. And he was damn good at exploiting it, Jim had to admit.

"Why?" Spock asked plaintively, sounding truly curious, and Jim grappled for an answer in his completely disoriented mind.

"Because...because it feels too damn good," he blurted, then wished he hadn't. He knew that look in Spock's eyes. It was the look he gave his samples in the lab, or the newest thing Scotty managed to cobble together out of bolts and screws in his free time. It was a _scientific _look, and Jim found that it doubled as an utterly terrifying look when applied to his lower regions.

"I was not aware that this was a particularly erogenous region for humans," Spock said slowly, the wheels spinning so fast in his mind that Jim could almost hear them go into warp.

"Yeah, well, neither was I!" Jim snapped, anxiety making him twitchy. "Stop looking at me like that." _Like you're going to eat me_ _or something._

"Fascinating," Spock repeated.

"_No_, Spock, it's _not_ fascinating!" Jim countered frantically. "What the hell are you doing now?" Spock's hands were gripping his thighs, pushing them farther apart so he could gain better access. Jim flinched as he felt a rough tongue scrape over his skin, every nerve igniting as Spock caught the thin skin between his teeth and _bit_-

"Shit," Jim forced out through clenched teeth. He was achingly hard again, and the fact that Spock's mouth was so close and he couldn't decide where it would feel best was driving him insane. "S-Spock, _please_." He didn't know what he was begging for anymore, he wanted Spock to swallow him down, to keep doing what he was doing to that ridiculously sensitive spot, to fill him and mark him and pound him senseless into the bed.

Some of that must have transferred in part through their physical contact, because now Spock's unfortunately agile tongue was moving down farther, tracing the curve of muscle around the dip of his thigh. He pressed his face deeper into Jim as he moved, his hair just brushing Jim's solid arousal, and Jim's hands fisted desperately into the sheets at the tantalizing touch.

"Come on," he panted, trying to lift his head up to get a look at what Spock was doing, but finding himself pinned to the mattress by sheer, maddening sensation.

Spock grunted impatiently, his hands tightening and lifting Jim's hips off the mattress, spreading his legs almost painfully open. Jim groaned when Spock's tongue found his entrance, probing the tight ring of muscle experimentally. A rough swipe had Jim arching off the bed, trying to move closer and pull away at the same time. "_Uh_, Spock," he gasped, the tight heat building in his abdomen pulsing warningly.

The tip of Spock's tongue pushed into him, and Jim bucked involuntarily. "Shit!" He plucked helplessly at Spock's hair, trying to find purchase in the severe hairstyle. "Please, Spock, I need-I need..."

Spock moved a hand around to the small of Jim's back, flipping him easily over onto his stomach. Jim raised his hips eagerly, muffling his groans in a pillow as Spock spread him out, bracing himself against Jim's hips.

Jim thrust back hard as soon as he felt Spock nudging at his entrance, a choked cry spilling into the pillow as he felt himself suddenly filled to the brim. Behind him, he heard a low, incoherent curse, Spock's hands suddenly digging painfully into his hips. Through waves of hazy pleasure and want, Jim felt the flicker of satisfaction he always did when he managed to push Spock into spouting Vulcan.

"Move," he commanded, when he could do more than gasp breathlessly.

Spock made a sound that was part exasperation and part amusement, and pulled back ever so slowly, wringing a flurry of half-formed curses from Jim as he clawed at the pillow and tried not to lose his mind. The thrust back in was equally slow, the slide past his prostate too painfully pleasurable to endure. Jim rocked back to meet Spock impatiently, then growled when Spock pushed him down by a hand on the dip of his spine, pressing his belly closer to the mattress to keep him still.

"Control yourself," Spock chided mildly, his voice only slightly strained. For some reason, this irked Jim more than the reprimand, and he wriggled with increased frustration beneath Spock.

"_Move_, Spock," he all but whined, thrusting helplessly against the mattress. The friction of the sheets alleviated some of the discomfort, but he needed _more_. "Please."

"Please?" Spock pushed deeper in, Jim groaning until he ran out of air.

"Are you….really….going to do this right now?" Jim panted, barely able to think straight at this point. Spock was hot and full inside him, every movement sending arcs of white pleasure sparking straight to his brain.

"What do you want, Jim?" Spock prompted. Jim flinched when he felt a hand reach beneath him, grasping the base of his arousal and squeezing gently.

"G-God….Spock, please-"

"What is it?"

_To hell with this,_ Jim thought. "I want you," he gasped. "I want _you_, Spock, please-uhh!" He grunted when Spock thrust hard into him, finally settling into a real tempo. His hand countered his movements, the off rhythm sending all sorts of disorienting feelings tingling up Jim's spine. He wasn't able to make much noise, barely able to breathe. He was feeling, all over his body, every inch of his skin exposed and burning.

Spock flipped him over onto his back, hoisting his legs up to his chest and pressing deeper into Jim with every thrust. Jim reached up instinctively, hands fumbling over Spock's chest and shoulders. He settled with a hand at the back of Spock's neck, straining upwards to press his panting mouth against Spock's.

Spock's free hand was sliding down his chest, fingertips pressing over his flexing abdomen. His thumb found the curve between taut thigh and pelvis and ground into the spot, simultaneously angling a thrust _just right_-

Jim came with a strangled groan, head falling back onto the mattress as liquid heat spilled over Spock's hand and splattered his stomach. He felt Spock thrusting through the aftershocks, his body jerking from heightened sensitivity. He clenched down automatically, exhaling in a jerky sigh when Spock stiffened above him, a slightly voiced grunt and a tightening of his fingers into already bruising flesh the only indication of his release.

Jim rolled over gingerly onto his side as soon as Spock pulled out, grimacing at the warm stickiness between his thighs. He usually didn't like Spock coming inside-it was so damn _messy_-but, well, he hadn't exactly been in a state of mind to protest.

He felt the mattress dip as Spock quietly slipped off, then a distant bustling from the bathroom. Spock returned with a wet cloth, his movements impossibly gentle as he cleaned Jim off. The cloth brushed over the spot, and Jim shivered wearily.

"Stop that, you'll rile me up again," he teased, flipping over onto his back and grabbing Spock's wrist. The Vulcan's face and shoulders were flushed light green, pupils still blown wide. He stretched out willingly on his side at Jim's insistence, shifting his head closer on the single pillow until his face pressed against Jim's shoulder.

Jim hummed contentedly, weaving his fingers through Spock's in a loose clasp. _Love you, _he thought, concentrating on the feel of the words rather than their sound.

A distinct air of amusement drifted through the transparent link. **You've gotten better.**

**A/N: Back to T-rating tomorrow, folks. You've gotten your treat, haha.**


	9. Chapter 9

Things Unspoken

**The crew of the Enterprise notices something different between their captain and first officer, but they won't ever tell.**

They started noticing when the touching began.

Staring wasn't uncommon between the captain and commander anymore. Even before they were captain and first officer, when they were at each other's throats, there was a real danger of physical harm if you tried to get between the two of them during a staring match.

It was one of the unspoken rules aboard the Enterprise that you didn't talk about the captain and first officer together in one sentence. At least, not in front of them. Mess hall and crew quarters were fair game, and occasionally the medbay when Dr. McCoy was on duty. To do it seemed like tempting fate in a way, giving karma an extra nudge over the fence of reality. So they whispered about it, and thought about it, and said nothing to the pair in question.

Sulu was the first to notice. He was turning in his seat to offer Kirk the time of arrival to their next destination, when he saw Spock standing behind the command chair. That in itself wasn't too strange, but his hands were unmistakably placed on the captain's shoulders, absently kneading in a light massage.

Sulu gawked, his words backflipping back down his throat. Kirk noticed him then, and gave a slight shrug, more of a twitch than an actual motion, and Spock's hands slipped back behind his back. "Mr. Sulu?" and that was that.

A brushing of shoulders in the corridor that lasted longer than necessary, a casual pat on the back, a light brush of fingers passing over PADDS. Little things like that, but lots of little things added up into a big thing, and a big enough thing was enough to be reality. Further evidence was dished up in clandestine meetings

"About time," Scotty grunted, digging beneath his clutter of a desk and producing a dusty bottle of scotch. "I'll drink to that!" Celebratory drinks were passed around, and the bridge crew departed to their quarters that night with a strange air of bemusement and relief. God knows the two of them had danced about each other long enough.

...

"Do you think they've noticed?" Jim murmured, his lips moving against the underside of Spock's throat. He could almost taste his pulse point, feel the fluttering of his heartbeat just beneath the skin. He breathed in deeply, that minty scent that was so exclusively Spock's giving him a heady rush.

Spock considered for a moment, his own face buried in the top of Jim's head, and sighed into his hair. "I doubt it, Jim."

"You sure?" Jim asked dubiously. "You've been kind of, I don't know, handsy lately. Not," he added, "that I'm complaining." And he proved his point by grabbing Spock's ass, pulling him forward playfully.

Spock loosed a grunt of surprise that turned into a growl, and fingers tangled into the short hair at the back of Jim's head, catching his mouth in a hard kiss. He then proceeded to show Jim just how handsy he could get.

Really, Jim couldn't complain at all.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: so I lied about this being ten parts- it is now eleven. I added this part on a fantastic whim because I really wanted to write this for some reason? I made myself sad doing it, though…..well, anyway, carry on.**

Making Good

**Jim visits an old friend.**

"It's been a while, sir."

The words came awkwardly to Jim and he cleared his throat self-consciously, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Sorry about that. Shore leave procedures are a pain in the ass." He paused, contemplating the white gravestone with not a little helplessness. "I didn't bring any flowers or anything, if that's okay with you. You probably weren't into that kind of thing anyway, right?"

The cemetery was silent, other than a couple of enthusiastic birds in the distance. Jim sighed heavily and crouched down, resting his arms on his knees. "I'm not very good at this," he informed the gravestone wryly. "To be honest, I almost didn't come, but...well, someone convinced me."

There was an unfortunate lump in his throat that he battled valiantly, swallowing around the damn thing before he could talk again. "You made a good call, appointing him as first officer. A real champ, that Spock." He gave a small chuckle, the corner of his mouth raising ruefully. "He's too good for me, really."

There was a weed encroaching against the gravestone. Jim pulled at it absently, uprooting it and shredding the leaves between his fingers. "She's doing real good, our ship. Well, it was your ship first. The crew misses you, I think. Can't say I blame them, with me in charge now." His grin faded slightly. "I miss you, too."

The damn lump was back again.

"I miss you," Jim repeated, not knowing what else to say. "You...you were the closest thing I had for a dad, you know? And if it wasn't for you...that night...I wouldn't have- Well. I wouldn't be here now, I guess. And I wouldn't have met Spock." He took a deep breath. "So, thank you. For everything. I think...well, I like to think that my life started when I met you. I know you're an Admiral now, but...you were always the captain, to me."

He coughed, unsettled by the prickling sensation behind his eyes. "I just wish you could be here, you know? To see all this. Did you know Chekov was only seventeen? You cradle robber. He's doing great, though- they all are. Sulu and Uhura and Bones and, well, I guess you don't really know Scotty. You'd be proud of them. And...I hope you'd be proud of me, too. I'm trying, sir. I'm trying to be better, I-" His voice cracked and he stopped abruptly, taking another shuddering breath.

"I want to make you proud." The silence was deafening. Jim hesitated, then cleared his throat again and pushed himself to his feet. He reached out and patted the gravestone gruffly. The white stone was cool beneath his hand, the rougher flecks scraping against his palm.

"He makes me a better person," Jim told the stone quietly. "A better captain. And that's all I ever wanted to be." He suddenly wondered if Spock would come visit him like this when he died. It was an inevitable thing; they were always going to have to part like this. In a way, he was relieved that he would go first, because there was no life without Spock. Not anymore. And Spock would be fine without him, he knew. He would grieve, certainly, but he would move on because it was the right thing to do. Spock had always been stronger than Jim, after all.

A shadow fell across him, and he was still for a moment before sighing. "I thought you weren't going to come."

"I changed my mind." Spock moved forward to stand beside him. Shoulder to shoulder, they gazed down at the grave of Christopher Pike, Jim unconsciously leaning over until his arm pressed against Spock's.

"I believe that he would have been proud of you," Spock said finally, and shifted so that the back of his hand bumped against Jim's. It was little things like this that made Jim love him even more, small touches and gestures that showed that he cared. "As I am proud of you."

Jim glanced at him sidelong. "Yeah?"

"Yes." Spock bumped his hand again, fingers reaching out blindly this time and clasping Jim's palm to his.

Jim raised an eyebrow at that, but tightened his grip all the same. "Someone's in a good mood today," he murmured, feeling Spock's thumb brush over his knuckles in a brief caress.

"Appreciative," Spock corrected, gazing down at the grave solemnly.

Jim was quiet as he realized what Spock was saying. Or not saying, rather. He scratched at the back of his head with his free hand, feeling utterly lost and out of his depth. "You know….you do know that I'm planning to live to one hundred and thirty, right?"

"That is improbable."

"Shut up, let me have my moment." He squeezed Spock's hand gently. "What I'm saying is, you'll have me for the rest of my life. And beyond. If you want." He finished lamely, puttering out a bit by the end of the sentence.

Spock was silent as he contemplated this. When he turned his head to look at Jim, there was a softness in his eyes that only appeared when they were alone. Jim prided himself ridiculously on being able to bring out that expression. "I would like that," he murmured, almost to himself.

"Good. It's a deal, then."

And it was one he swore he would make good on.


	11. Chapter 11

**Watchers**

The watchers sat in their cave, knees touching and hands linked in the darkness of the cave. Golden eyes stared into space and time and souls and the watchers _watched_.

They watched the first touch, the first words, the first kiss. They watched the final breaths. They watched the anger, the love, the hate, the sorrow, the longing. They watched the beginning and the end, and they waited, and they knew.

Knew that the captain had found his way, will find his way, has found his way. It had taken, will take, years, seconds, eons. Time held no meaning for they who watched, for they have seen all that has passed and all that will. It was only a matter of waiting.

Waiting for the day that Jim Kirk would be a great man.

**A/N: A little short something to wrap it all up. And now, it really is the end. Hope you've enjoyed the romp and that you'll tune in for more to come! Sayonara, ciao, goodbye and farewell. See you on the other side, folks.**


End file.
